Despair
by Bakurama
Summary: Youko's sickly despair in the loss of his once-warm lover.
1. Chapter 1

Loneliness.

The overwhelming sense of emptiness covered him like a clogged rain-cloud ready to pour its sorrows onto the land below. Like being suffocated under a thick wool blanket where breathing was limited, an impending doom hovering over you in complete darkness. Only, for Kurama, the horror had climaxed; only an interim of despair remained. The musky scent of gun powder and blood after a noble war, a courageous battle. Only this was no holy war, no higher cause. It was petty thievery. A simple past time for a few laughs and riches. Something that would not bring perpetual happiness. Something that would raise hubris to heights unknown and untouched. It was all so insignificant.

An exiguous task that had ripped his best friend from him. His lover. His rock. His reason.

Kurama curled into himself on the cave floor, preparing for his undoing that would come. Or had it arrived the moment when his charming bat was impaled? Thick underbrush peeking in from the back of the cave scratched Kurama's bare arms as he shifted onto his side, muscles palpitating and screaming at him to halt his movement. The artefact they had been after was long forgotten near the mouth of the cave, laying on a soft bed of moss.

Attempting to ease the ache in his legs, Kurama pushed soothing ki into his legs, although without much care. He slumped back down, cheek colliding with the floor.

He didn't care. He didn't care what happened to himself any more.

Once upon a time, he had one person to protect. Himself. Then suddenly, he had two. Himself and Kuronue. Although the silver fox would never admit it, he was cruelly possessive. His lovers belonged to him; they no longer owned themselves. Kuronue was different. There was freedom, there was dancing, and there was laughter. Kurama could not remember when he had laughed so hard, or loved so passionately. Cool nights filled with the sounds of their lovemaking while days filled with their glee, practically worshipping the sun. Kurama thanked Inari daily for such an existence, such a peace amidst the chaos that was Kuronue.

Why, Kurama had not known such happiness since he was a child, only to be crushed by his own hands, even then. And now, Kurama blamed himself again, though he tried not to. He could practically hear Kuronue scolding him, goading him. "Lighten up, fox! You cannot blame yourself for what is out of your control." He would've said. Kuronue would have proceeded to kiss Kurama's cheeks with a gentleness before sensually pressing their lips together.

Only Kuronue. Only Kuronue was permitted such tender caresses.

Kurama's nose scrunched and his eyes tightened shut, tears burning under his lids. No, he wouldn't cry. Kuronue wouldn't want Kurama to cry. It was weak. It was pathetic. It was useless. Tears would not bring him back. His nails nearly broke as he scraped them along the rocky bed of the cave before bunching into taught fists. His breathing was becoming more frantic by the moment as bile rose to his throat. The tears only seemed to burn more as his throat became sticky, trying to force himself to hold himself together.

_Keep it together, Youko Kurama. He was not worthy of…worthy.._

Kurama's harsh, thorn-ridden lie could not hold him together as the dam broke, a soft cry breaking free as he let the tears slide down his cheeks. His sobs echoed about the cave, his plants drinking in the agony of their master, wilting and dying about the walls.

The great unravelling began.

_Thank you for reading! This will most likely be a twoshot._


	2. Despair Part II

It was an abyss he had buried himself into. His mind was cavernous, and what better, in this moment, than to fill those intricate depths with sorrow? Erraticity was the only logical thing to accomplish. Or perhaps it was insanity that truly plagued his thoughts? Had he tumbled from deity status already, scraped knees and bloody fingers, refusing to turn golden eyes up towards the dreary Makai sun? To howl like the wild creature he was, worshipping the moon and draining the night for all the stars in the sky had promised him. He was suffocating in the cool black, becoming comfortable with the treacherous emptiness.

If asked previously if any creature could tangle themselves so intimately within Youko Kurama, he would have denied it, lashed out with quick-silver tongue and bitter venom. If perhaps, you asked the mighty thief in his current state—moulding with the earth as moss and moisture chilled his bones and dampened his skin—the silver fox would have surreptitiously mouthed a riddle, or perhaps murmur vaguely understandable phrases, coupled with wounded eyes. He would give much to have his dear lover within the protection of the caves, to have the misplaced shivering countered with powerful, pleasant arms. They would encircle him, showing Kurama the shred of kindness he had never applied to himself. He dare say, he loved that about Kuronue. The essence, the aura—it was as electric as the crackles of lightning, the booms of thunder. It was funny, for someone so laid-back and smiling, Kuronue's omnipotence over Kurama always made the woodland spirit desire more. It was the rush of someone snapping the trust, only it would not be clean. It would be green-stick, dirty and repulsive. The kind of games that would bend bones and split organs, entrails plopping onto solid ground as blood gurgled within pale throats. Betrayal was not something Youko Kurama took well.

He we only a hypocrite, after all.

Kurama did not know how much time had passed, nor how long it had been since he lain in the dirt outside of the cave, crawling for fresh air. The soot would speckle his vision, soon plummeting him into an endless forest of dreams. At times, those dreams retold great tales of the thievery and the love that came with such a pastime. The thrills kept the memory alive and breathing, always to be crushed when Kurama's white lashes would flutter, staring up at the sky and cursing.

There came a time, however, when the light finally warmed his face, welcoming him back from such dark days. He groaned, rolled onto his side and pushed. Kurama found his muscles weary from ill-usage, his face covered in dirty. Quite unpleasant, as the spiders had clung to his hair. He bathed slowly by the river, washing his heartache as best he could with near freezing water. It lasted but a moment, but he could feel it in the creaks of his bones.

This was not freedom. Not yet. Soon, however, the shackles would be ripped and he would finally breathe once more.

_I am so sorry, Kuronue._

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__Thank you for the lovely reviews! I am sad to say, that this will end the twoshot. I would still love feedback.

~ Cain


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